


Babysitting Lil' Nazbol (Literally)

by PassionForTheArts



Series: Politi-Girls [3]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: (proud of this pun), (yeah i like to use my own vocabulary as tags. what about it?), Auth Unity - Relationship - Freeform, Centricide - Freeform, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Fempill, Gen, Genderbend, Not Canon Compliant, Personified Ideologies, Politi-Girls, Posadist is an alien (not surprising), Posadist uses xe/xem pronouns, Xenopronouns, gender swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionForTheArts/pseuds/PassionForTheArts
Summary: Told mostly with Anmon's perspective, she and the Wackys find much more to the purple gremlin when they're forced to babysit- even more so than her own maternal units.
Relationships: Anarcho-Monarchist/Anarcho-Primitivist (Centricide), Anmon/Anprim (Centricide), Communist/White Identitarian | Nazi (Centricide)
Series: Politi-Girls [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139588
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. The Start of A Possible End

**Author's Note:**

> -Nazbol is 10-12 in this fic; hence, the literally Lil' Nazbol  
> -I renamed fem! Homonat as SapphFash because it sounds a lot catchier imo (also I'm impressed with my own wordplay. Whatcha gonna do about it?  
> -Anmon is POC  
> -Commie + Nazi are awful mothers. 
> 
> Warning for implied abuse at the end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wackys undertake a task bestowed upon no other Ideology...
> 
> Protections of Lil' Nazbol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Please enjoy!!

For a medium, trailer-like shelter, the Wackies Headquarters was relatively comfortable. Nestled between secluded though not off-grid woods, it held the tranquil white noise as any woods would, except for today. 

“AUGH!” Anmon growled, sitting up from her Queen-sized bed, pulling her silk eye mask over the crown of her head. “Which peasant _dare_ interrupt? It better not be my brother-husband!”

A beep-boop came from across the room; Transhumanist’s boxy head peeked from the entrance. “Anmon?”

“It’s about time our metal vassal woke up.” Anmon couldn’t take the doorbell ringing any longer. “One of those hedge-borns forgot the key, didn’t they? Let them in, vassal.”

“Beep-Boop, it is not a familiar figure.”

Ammon raised a brow. 

Transhumanist’s gray (painted) mechanical hand that held the security tablet held it up for the royalty to see. Still blurry from just waking up, all Anmon could see was a purple-ish blob. “The identity is not in our database, beep boop-”

Just then, Anmon’s phone blasted with Bardcore cover of WAP.

Anmon blushed; she could feel the judgment from Transhumanist’s face (despite the “cyborg helmet” she concealed her face with). Quickly turning off notifications, her screen flashed with texts from Sapphic Fash.

 **sapphfash** : hey princess ;) were amlost done w shopping but i had to drive to another store bc their was to many mexicans :(

The Nigerian woman rolled her eyes for two reasons; she was a queen, possessing more power than merely a princess. Secondly, Sapphfash either forgot or pretended to forget that she was a WOC. 

The doorbell was still ringing when Anmon read the next text. 

“Beep-Boop, I’m getting the door.” Transhumanist rolled away on her wheelies, whilst muttering about Anprim “being uselessly human in the yard.” 

No, it couldn’t be… Anmon still processed the text. “Oh no.”

For a medium, trailer-like shelter, the Wackies Headquarters was relatively comfortable. Nestled between secluded though not off-grid woods, it held the tranquil white noise as any woods would, except for today. 

“AUGH!” Anmon growled, sitting up from her Queen-sized bed, pulling her silk eye mask over the crown of her head. “Which peasant dare interrupt? It better not be my brother-husband!”

A beep-boop came from across the room; Transhumanist’s boxy head peeked from the entrance. “Anmon?”

“It’s about time our metal vassal woke up.” Anmon couldn’t take the doorbell ringing any longer. “One of those hedge-borns forgot the key, didn’t they? Let them in, vassal.”

“Beep-Boop, it is not a familiar figure.”

Ammon raised a brow. 

Transhumanist’s gray (painted) mechanical hand that held the security tablet held it up for the royalty to see. Still blurry from just waking up, all Anmon could see was a purple-ish blob. “The identity is not in our database, beep boop-”

Just then, Anmon’s phone blasted with Bardcore cover of WAP.

Anmon blushed; she could feel the judgment from Transhumanist’s face (despite the “cyborg helmet” she concealed her face with). Quickly turning off notifications, her screen flashed with texts from Sapphic Fash.

sapphfash: hey princess ;) were amlost done w shopping but i had to drive to another store bc their was to many mexicans :(

The Nigerian woman rolled her eyes for two reasons; she was a queen, possessing more power than merely a princess. Secondly, Sapphfash either forgot or pretended to forget that she was a WOC. 

The doorbell was still ringing when Anmon read the next text. 

“Beep-Boop, I’m getting the door.” Transhumanist rolled away on her wheelies, whilst muttering about Anprim “being uselessly human in the yard.” 

No, it couldn’t be… Anmon still processed the text. “Oh no.”

* * *

  
Fire. There was a lot of fire.

Anmon, who had joined Posadist at the dining table slumped her head into her palm, watching from a distance. 

“Posadie?”

“What is it, Anmon?” Posadist’s voice chirped back in her echoey-alien tone.

Sapphfash and the others had returned home from their errands, crowding behind the couch to watch a peculiar sight that was unfolding before them. 

The sounds of the obnoxious doorbell had ceased, but not before quickly being replaced by the sounds of screams and the cracking of fire. From what Anmon could decipher, Nazbol had recreated the centrists in a game and was currently “giving them hell.”

“Tell me, what is that peasant doing in our house? And why is everyone so fascinated with the death of Sim characters? I thought Sapphfash stole all the DVDs from her ex.”

Not looking up from the beetle that crawled over her hand -(Anmon made a mental note to chew off Anprim for giving Posadist yet another bug)- the nuclear enthusiast buzzed. “I don’t care much for child's play-” Posadist’s yellow reflective eyes bounce up to which Anmon can see the reflection of her undignified slouch, “-but her gameplay is a lot more creative than the way you go about it.”

“Castle-building is wonderful gameplay,” Anmon insisted to nobody in particular, stiffening her back and gripping her teacup harder. “All that kid does is… is…”

One of Posadist’s gradient tendrils disguised as hair reached up to the cabinet to pull out her favorite snack; cricket jerky. Anmon sighed internally, knowing full well the conversation was over. (Posadist never listened during snack time.) She glanced back to the entryway, watching the young girl’s pale face lit up from her tablet screen, wholly immersed in her game. She caught the attention of Transhumanist, whose helmet flashed a pixelated question mark. Anmon dismissed her with a shake of her head, deciding she would go out for a walk instead to seek Anprim’s comfort. 

Not a few steps past the small garden where she liked to tend to her plants -the white roses smelled particularly extraordinary today, she noted- came the entrance to the crowded but traversable woods. Picking up her skirt, she gracefully marched ahead.

The scoundrel, digging near the river bank for… something- Anmon couldn’t keep up with the woman’s antics.

“Anprim, my favorite court jester!”

“Anprim not court jester.” The brunette grunted, only flickering her head to acknowledge Anmon. “Anprim busy preparing for Moon Goddess.”

“I’m afraid something awful has happened!”

The cavewoman grunted.

Anmon sighed. “Oh vassal… It’s not Techprim… You know Nazi and Commie? Well, now there’s a purple scoundrel in our living room.”

“Huh?” Anprim’s body froze, staring at Anmon incredulously. “Anprim not believe! That’s crazy!”

She shrugged. Must’ve been a drunk night for the two of them. “Commie threatened to revoke the partnership unless we watched National Bolshevik while they go out for a date.” Settling herself on the cleaner patch of grass, she sniffled. “She doesn’t look to be older than ten. She reminds me of my late half-sister.”

“That ungood. Moon God ritual no child allowed.”

“Perchance your ritual includes a young sacrifice?” Anmon half-joked.

A pause. “Not bad idea.”

The two laughed. Anmon glanced back at the headquarters. “Vassal, come look at the flowers with me. The roses smell particularly beautiful today.”

Anprim let out another grunt. In a flash, Anmon’s squealing figure was being carried back to the headquarters by Anprim- princess style, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yeah, multi-chapter fanfic time!!
> 
> Thank you for all your support! Kudos + Comments help motivate me to complete another chapter, so if you want to see the spiral of the Wackiest group caused by a purple rat, let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Lots of love. <3


	2. The Fire Needs A Match. Or Lunch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anmon makes her biggest mistake in trade for a good nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a Nazbol chapter. There's more to her than her hybrid ideology.

Despite Anmon’s initial distaste of the elementary kid she and the Wackies would have to babysit, she’d grown to tolerate her over the course of a few hours as long as the child had her lavender backpack and tablet.

Eventually, the Wackies went into their “Solitude Hour,” or glorified nap time. (Hey, collecting + hiding nukes and posting propaganda while evading the FBI was hard work!) Regardless, Anmon cozied herself on her Queen bed, eyes shut, mind drifting away…

Poke. Poke. Poke. 

She grunted and turned the other way. Probably just a fly. 

It was not a fly- at least, not one she could demand Anprim to kill. Nazbol’s heterochromia red-and-blue eyes stared into Anmon’s amber pair. She opened her mouth and pointed a finger inside. 

“Hungry?”

Nazbol nodded vigorously.

Not dealing with the mess of a hungry rat, she hissed at the child to “let herself eat cake” before dozing off again. 

Unbeknown to Anmon, Nazbol would attempt her greatest achievement. 

Scrambled eggs. It seemed easy enough, she had watched her Mutti Nazi fry them for her (when she remembered to feed her) many times.

She moved slowly, grimacing when the table squeaked as she climbed atop to grab a few bowls from the top shelf of the cabinet. Once set on the countertop aside from the stove, she peeked inside the fridge. The violet-haired girl began to get giddy when she realized it was fully stocked, with vegetables, fruits, yogurt- and a fresh dozen of eggs. Nazbol couldn’t remember the last time her family’s refrigerator was so lush with food. Greedily, she snatched the eggs- one, two, four, five-seven wouldn’t hurt, would it? Her stomach growled. Seven eggs hastily cracked into one bowl, some of the eggshell mixing in. Oh well, she could crunch through them. 

The elementary girl beat the eggs like she beat the centrists in her Sims game. When satisfied, she grabbed a pan from the lower cabinets and turned on the stove. It was a little hard for her to see the top of the pan as the stove was a head taller than her. Nonetheless, she poured the eggs in and waited for the magic.

…

This was boring. She checked her watch- not that she could read it, but it didn’t matter, the Hello Kitty timepiece was cracked beyond repair. (Nazbol frowned as she tried to recall what had prompted her mother’s violent response that caused her to trash everything in the house, including her birthday present.) Maybe there was a clock somewhere. 

“It’s important to check the time when you cook these eggs, Nazbol.” Nazi had warned, pointing at the clock that hung above the kitchen’s entryway. “It only takes a few minutes to cook them so you best keep an eye on them.”

No clocks in the kitchen. She moved into the living room. Sapphfash was face-planted on the neon pink couch, a naughty magazine still in hand, arm dangling off the side of the couch. Transhumanist laid flat on a broken tanning bed she and the wackies had stolen from an old spa. She claimed it was her “charging station.”

Charging… Oh, right! Her tablet was fully charged. She checked the time. Only noon. She made a mental note to check in five minutes. She decided to explore the headquarters. 

She passed by many portraits and photos of the Wackies, many made her giggle for how goofy they looked, although a portrait of an unknown scruffy-looking woman next to Anmon made her pause in her tracks. Though Anmon was the one smiling at the fluffy cat she was cradling in her arms, the cavewoman’s jade eyes were endearing on her otherwise unpleasant features.

Seeing how candid the three looked in their joy made Nazbol feel weird. Surely life was better as the perfect incarnation of the two most powerful political ideologies that have walked the planet, right? Powerful ideologies were above such childish affection, right? So… why did she wish to be like the cat in the photo?

She blinked back tears. Only weak, bourgeoisie degenerates cried. As she passed more rooms, one room stood out from the others. It had a neon yellow and black symbol and was the only door that had a metallic sheen to it. A buzzing caught her ear, and as any kid would, she would explore Narnia. 

The door had a keypad- much to her dismay. But the vent near the door would easily fit her tiny frame… Thus she screwed the small bolts off using a Deutschmark from her pocket.

In, though, and out of the vent, she took a good look at the room. It was dark, with only the neon strip of light illuminated by large glass tanks shining in the room. Eyes wide, she peered into each tank, noticing all the neat beetles and bugs inside. An impish grin overtook her face.


	3. Missing (Her)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapphfash:
> 
> Anmon:
> 
> Sapphfash: yogurt more like regrets haha

“What do you mean fire- oh Julius fucking Evola-”

Scream and smoke filled the kitchen, Transhumanist zooming as fast as she could on her hoverboard in search of the fire extinguisher. Anmon burst into the kitchen upon Sapphfash’s scream. As soon as her amber eyes laid sight on the flames, she broke out in screams as well.

Posadist had to stomp in, liquify xer body outside xer uniform before morphing xe’s form into a foriegn-gelatinous cube. Xe engulfed the flaming stove into xerself, instantly extinguishing the threat.

When the smoke cleared, Posadist was back in xer more humanoid form. 

“Oh mama, your stomach isn’t looking too hot right now…” Sapphfash grimaced at the streak of purple across Posadist’s now-translucent torso. Posadist’s face glowed a warning red. “Joking, I’m joking…”

Transhumanist jerked her arm up. “While I was the first one at the scene, I did not cause the fire and can prove so by my tapes. Beep-boop.”

Anmon shot a glare to her right. “Degenerate Vassal…”

“Not the Niger Majesty calling me a degenerate!”

“Curb your racism, vassal, or I’ll give you a real crime to cry about.”

Sapphfash’s eyelids dropped, a sultry look washing over. “I’d like to see you try, _Prinzessin.”_

“Wackys!” Posadist called. “We are not here to discuss your ‘friday’s night plans.’ Our stove is ruined because of the flames and more importantly, Nazbol is missing.”

The color drained from Sapphfash’s face. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“Would those vassals really miss their mutant of that ideology, though?” Anmon fumbled with her fingers. “I mean, how is this the first time we meet her, when she’s existed for at least a decade?”

It went quiet for a minute, unfortunately allowing Anmon to focus on the stench of burnt food. God, had someone forgotten to turn off the stove? Posadist’s antennae buzzed, voice low. “We could say that about all of us. This kind of exclusion is what drove us away from the main Centricide headquarters, remember? Nazbol could join. And we never leave a Wacky behind.”

Xer head snapped up, eyes a determined turquoize. “We are not leaving her. Sapphfash, Anmon, go to the woods and split the area to search. Transhumanist has already activated the barriers- so she'll most likely still be within headquarter bounds. Transhumanist will scour the house. I’ll locate Anprim.”

Minutes of searching had led Anmon and Sapphfash nowhere. 

“How many places can a mini-vassal hide in?” Anmon groaned. “Sapphfash. You’re Nazbol’s aunt. Where would you hide out here?”

Sapphfash, whose magenta-white-orange eyes scanned the tops of the trees shrugged. “Hell if I know. I came here as a college girl.” She sent a wink to Anmon. “But even after all those decades, I still don’t feel a day older.”

Something in the tracks caught Anmon’s eye. It reassembled a quadrant pendant. Sapphfash noticed, as well, for when she picked up the discarded necklace, one of the two squares glowed a soft blue- the Auth Right quadrant.

Foot tracks were nearby and in no time, they located the purple gremlin. 

“Nazbol!”

The girl jumped, startled. Her heterochromic eyes wide with surprise. She hugged the tablet close to her. “Anmon! _Tante_ Sapph!”

“What are you doing?” Upon closer inspection, Anmon gasped. No...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Prinzessin- German word for "Princess"  
> Tante- German word for "Aunt"
> 
> Thank you for all your support! Kudos + Comments help motivate me to complete another chapter, so if you want to see the spiral of the Wackiest group caused by a purple rat, let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Lots of love. <3


	4. Bugged Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long- splitting it would feel awkward, though.
> 
> QUICK WARNING: Toxic/Complicated family dynamic (It's Auth Unity, need more to say?) There's also a few instances of offensive remarks- including one event of accidental misgendering, which is immediately corrected.
> 
> Otherwise, please hold your standing ovation until the end ;-)
> 
> Enjoy!!

“What are you doing?” Upon closer inspection, Anmon gasped. No…

A small “stadium” filled with bugs and a few frogs. “Are those Posadie’s bugs?!” Sapphfash hoarsely whispered.

The two older women’s blood ran cold. Posadist doted on the small beetles and creatures like xer own… And to see them massacred in a shoe box was. Oh it was something. Sapphfash, now determined to not die, picked up her niece. “Haven’t you heard of the creatures that hide in these woods?”

Nazbol’s head tilted, and innocently asked, “Jews?”

Anmon took a sharp breath. Oh that’s Nazi’s daughter all right. 

“As far as I’m concerned my _Liebling_ , Posadist is an alien, not a monster- easy mistake to make, though. Now come on, your mommies will be here any minute n-.”

"Amon! Sapphfash!"

Life drained from the two women’s eyes- Posadist was near.

Sapphfash muttered something under her breath and just as Anmon was going to list to her plan, the woman had sprinted in the opposite direction with Nazbol. 

Shit. Now she would be the one to face Posadist’s anger. Quickly moving, she picked up a few of the (dead) bugs, tossed them as far out in the river as she could. If you couldn’t save the evidence, what good was keeping it? Fingers shaking, Anmon knew she was dropping a few of the carcasses, but she had no time or willpower to toss them.

The ground crunched- someone was approaching. Anmon quickly backed and crouched into a light bush, one that would conceal her just enough. Breath caught in her throat, Anmon felt a shaking relief when it ended up being Anprim. “Vassal!”

Anprim ignored her outstretched arms, which momentarily hurt until the queen realized Anprim was in search of something. Eyebrows stitched together, she looked… worried? 

“What is it?”

“Frog gone. Moon Goddess will not be happy.”

Amon fumbled with her bracelet. “Vassal, you’re my most trustworthy jester-”

The cavewoman grunted.

“W-which is why… Which is why.” Anmon cupped her face into her head, letting out a startling sob; which Anprim could not decipher, thus causing an impromptu therapy session as Posadist approached the scene.

Posadist watched the two, unblinking. Oh, how silly Homo sapiens were with their display of theatrics.

However, xe was not here for a Nollywood movie, xe was here to investigate. A few careful turns of surrounding rocks, lifting tufts of moss and grass, and even peeking up in the trees (who needed a harness when your sticky flesh could scale nature itself?), Posadist’s hands came up empty. Shame.

As Anprim coaxed Anmon in a pitch too low for Posadist to comfortably unriddle, xe moved past, near the bank of the creeks. Joy! Lay about were a few bugs, though they remained suspiciously still in xe’s palms.

Meanwhile, Anprim was still attempting to consolidate Anmon. “Posadist not see ‘stadium’ of bugs. The bug maybe escape xe thinks.”

Anmon’s sobs had slowed to sniffles. “B-but your Moon Goddess ritual-”

“Moon Goddess good person, she very understanding. Where Nazbol?”

The buzz of Posadist’s antenne called their attention. “No worries ladies, let’s head back to base.”

“What about the… y’know.”

“Sapphfash has her niece. Nazi and Commie may drop by soon and we to make the kitchen more presentable. Anyone know where the lavender candles are?” As xe turned on xe’s heels, xe muttered, “Fucking hell, it smells like burnt eggs.”

And clean the kitchen they did. 

“Can I help, _Tante_?”

Sapphfash narrowed her eyes. “You’ve helped plenty. The adults will sort this one out.”

“But I want to help! Pleeeeeeease?”

“ _Nien_.”

Always one to challenge those who dare say no to the coolest political ideology, Nazbol set out on moving small plates. Eventually, the women let the child help out more, usually leaving her with the task nobody wanted to do- scrubbing the walls.

Anmon was nearby so the two began to talk. Anmon hadn’t intended to learn anything about Nazbol’s parents, but alas, Nazbol had a lot to say.

It wasn’t sounding too good, either.

“Ancom is super weird, degenerate, and will probably just die of overdosing, but it’s weirder seeing Commie spend time with her- I mean them. Mutti gets super mean and jelly when it happens.”

“Hm.”

“Then she goes and talks to the _kulak_ miss Ancap. Mama also gets mad and eventually, they get in a really loud argument.” Nazbol cringed. “I wish my moms would get along for a day. They’re kinda scary when they get angry…”

Anmon scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

Nazbol whipped her head up. “So it's not my fault they're always mad?!” she laughed. “W-well, I mean, of course you do! They’re the bestest and coolest ideologies in the whole wide world!”

"Well, I don't know about that Vassal... you see, before I joined the Wackys, I tried to join the Centricide-"

"What's the Wackys?"

"Us!" Anmon gestured to the women present in the room. "We're not front-and-center like The Centricide, but we are a team."

The young girl's eyes sparkled. "Woah- like a club?!"

More or less, Anmon thought. Nazbol fell silent, so Anmon continued. "The first of all of them I met was your moms. But I think Nazi was still trying to convince herself she didn’t like Commie.” Nazbol giggled at the thought. Anmon giggled along. “Yeah, I guess I was the rude one, walking in on their cuddling session because I wanted to be on time for the meeting. I don’t think I’ve seen Nazi that red. Or angry. Your mutti knows a concerning amount of insults.”

“She got kicked out of my talent show because she said a bad word to one of the teachers for stepping on her shoe.”

Anmon suppressed a laugh.

“Mama had to apologize and threaten miss Ancap to pay for damages. I don’t think they like each other very much.” Nazbol tugged on Anmon’s dress. “Hey I’m done scrubbing.”

Spotless! (where the short girl could reach, at least) “Thank you sweet Vassal.”

“What about the rest of the wall?”

Sapphfash grabbed Nazbol from behind, spinning her around. “Oh mien Liebling, don’t worry your pretty Aryan head about that. Instead, tell me more about that hot Commie mama of yours.”

Nazbol giggled from the momentum. “She snores too loud. And curses a lot in Russian. And she drinks too much. Mutti doesn’t like it when she drinks, she says it makes her look like a who-”

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Sapphfash laughed. “Commie isn’t the hot stuff she says she is. Now take your necklaces, I doubt your moms would enjoy you losing such valuable possessions.” 

The purple-haired girl gasped, eagerly taking the necklaces. Once equipped, the two square pendants began to color red and blue. “Thank you Tante!”

“Of course. Now go take a break.”

Anmon watched the little girl run off in search for her tablet. “Didn’t know you had it in you to be such a good aunt, Vassal.”

“In a way, she’s not just the predecessor of Nazi, she also carries some potential to carry my legacy, too.” The fascist stuffed her hands in her miniskirt’s pockets. “Also kids are too honest, so I need to make a good impression. Do you think Commie will finally see I offer when Nazi can’t? Actual parenting skills?”

Anmon rolled her eyes. “Your crush on that woman is going to be the reason you end up in the grave.”

“Can’t help it.” She grabbed her hand and gave a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Sapphfash’s multi-colored eyes peered up through her thick lashes. “I’m drawn to beautiful things.” 

“Unapologetically, it seems.” Despite Sapphfash’s flirty and flattering nature, Anmon felt her eyes drift to someone else. “But I don’t have room to talk, I fell for my favorite court jester.”

“Has she caught you yet?” 

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Anprim was hard at work, replacing parts of the stove. Anmon shook her head. “No, we have better things to do. Like… helping me scrub the ash from the wall?”

Near completion of clearing and cleaning the damages, Anmon and the others felt a familiar buzz- the authoritarian pair were near.

The sound of knocking and doorbell rang- along with a mild argument, probably Commie and Nazi criticizing the other for knocking instead of ringing, and vice versa. The two could bicker about anything, and the way to announce their arrival was no different. 

Posadist went to open the door, while Anmon searched to tell Nazbol the good news. Where was the girl- ah, right under the table. Nazbol looked at Anmon, bangs obscuring part of her eyes.

“Nazbol! Your mothers are here!” Posadist’s shrill voice cut through Anmon’s thoughts.

For whatever reason, it sent shivers down Anmon’s spine to watch the young girl stand up, dead silent. She wiggled her shoulders to adjust her backpack, glancing up at Anmon. “Can you zip my pack pack for me?”

The few seconds the Queen spent zipping were the longest seconds of her life. She asked the little girl if she needed anything else. Nazbol simply hugged her as tight as she could, face bumping into the woman’s knees. Such a warm hug. 

Nazbol lifted her head, eyes big and soft, and said something that would echo in Anmon's mind forever. "Was I good child, aunt Anmon?"

"The best," Was all the Queen could say without bursting into tears.

Just then, Posadist peeked xer head in the room. “Is everything alright?”

Anmon nodded as she gave Nazbol one last pat on the head.

From the living room; Commie’s voice boomed. “Nazbol, let’s go!”

When led into the living room, Nazbol ran to her mothers, arms outstretched for a hug- giddy as ever. Commie and Nazi simply ignored their daughter, Commie muttering something. Nazi wasn’t any better, simply dragging Nazbol by the arm and scolding her in German. 

Despite her difficultly trying to keep up with Nazi’s pace, Nazbol was able to glance back and give one last wave and a “thank you!” before the entrance was slammed shut.

Once the car was out of sight, the women plopped onto the nearest furniture, groaning in relief and exhaustion. 

“Shiza,” Sapphfash snapped open her fan to fan her face. “My sister was just as bitchy as ever. I don’t know how Commie can stand her. Much less create a mutant of an ideology.”

Anmon didn’t have the energy to snap at Sapphfash’s choice of words to describe the child- the Vassal's last words struck something deep in her heart.

“You’re telling me, Commie wouldn’t even thank any of us for the trouble.” Transhumanist’s screenface flashed an angry emoji. “The two reeked of alcohol, too.”

The women continued to chatter, although Anmon couldn’t help but think of the child. She wasn’t one to make a concrete judgment on one encounter, but the Authoritarian pair’s treatment of Nazbol had left her from feeling sorry for the young girl to teeth-gritting anger. It wasn’t until Anprim had placed her rough hand on Anmon’s palm did she realize she was actually shaking from her emotions. She leaned her head on the cavewoman’s shoulder, speaking in a voice only loud enough for the two of them.

Anprim listened intently, grunting to agree. Anmon’s amber pearls drifted their gaze to the floor, body slumping in defeat. “I shouldn’t be this worried, she’s not my daughter anyway.”

“But she is family. And family never forget to love.”

A gentle smile curved the Queen’s plush lips. “Yeah. She didn’t cause too much damage to your ritual, yes?”

Anprim’s eyes darted to the entrance. Then, on all fours, scrambled outside- Anmon followed closely behind. Soon, the rest of the team followed. 

A glowing figure could be seen near the riverbank. The women gasped. Anmon had always thought Moon Goddess to be Anprim’s elaborate joke… But now…

Glancing at each other uneasily, the women threaded carefully. 

“Moon Goddess near.” Anprim slowly lifted herself onto her feet. “But something not right. Stand back.”

The ends of the Goddess’s… hair flickered up. Everyone watched in increasing horror as her body shifted to a dangerous set of dark cool colors, skin glowing. 

“That’s not the Moon Goddess.” Anmon choked. “That’s… It’s…”

In an alien language, the Wacky’s leader shrilled and shrieked, unable to contain xer anger, and thus, losing control of maintaining a singular figure. The women were paralyzed in fear as Posadist’s body morphed into horrendous shapes, but even more so when xe turned so everyone could see xer face, contorted beyond human comprehension and rage. Throwing xemselves about, Posadist slammed xe’s liquidus limbs against trees, knocking a few over, leaving acid burns on those strong enough to withstand the sheer force.

It was most likely about the bugs- Sapphfash and Transhumanist barely dodged a falling tree- ok, so maybe Posadist was a smidge more than angry.

Though nothing was lit with flames, the forest soon radiated a piquant stench. Someone yelled to run to the bunkers- and so they ran. The mix of panicked yells and couching and echoey shrieking made it impossible to decipher anything cohesive, much less anything to relieve the alien that bubbled in xer rage (quite literally so- Evola, the odor was beyond fetid).

Lighting joined. The clap of the thunder was so loud but odd the women stopped running- a few ducked and covered their head. Despite the smoke that obscured the once-blue sky, there was no rain. No, something much more despairing. A blinding bright figure that appeared to float behind Posadist, who was now nothing more than toxic slime, webbed upon the branched of the deteriorating trees. 

“What the fuck is that thing?!” 

Even Sapphash, never one to give up her party-girl persona sounded like life had drained out of her- “The new world order- I warned everyone but nobody listened!” She quickly went on an inflammatory rant over multiple non-white groups.

Eyes burning to stare at the… being of pure light, the entity was taking shape- a hand reaching out to Posadist, still screeching.

Whatever the entity was, it had the power to knock everyone out unconscious.

Time passed by until the skies were painted orange and pink. Transhumanist was the first to wake up. Then Anprim. Then Sapphfash. The three decided to take the last two back to bed as they weren’t budging from their slumber. Sapphfash and Transhumanist would carry Posadist, who had thankfully returned to xer humanoid, less destructive figure. Anprim would carry Anmon, who woke up halfway from her slumber. 

The others filled her in on what happened. 

“So, we… Hold on, you’re telling me they came to pick up Nazbol, and when we all ran outside, we somehow passed out on the forest floor?!”

“Pretty much.” Sapphfash flashed her a grin. “It’s all good babyyy!”

Anmon turned to Anprim, whispering about needing a nap. Anprim gave a small chuckle. “Trust in the moon.” Anmon glanced up. Had the moon ever reflected so beautifully before? For a moment, she swore she could have seen whisps moving around the moon.

Meanwhile, Nazbol stared out the window, watching the storm gather. Nazi complained of the rain, while Commie voiced her concern of driving in such slippery weather. Neither mother believed Nazbol as she exclaimed of the “lightning lady” in the distance.

“You and your imagination.” Nazi sighed.

“A bit endearing, no?” Commie chuckled. “She has your creativity, after all.” Nazi rolled her eyes, but didn’t object when Commie squeezed her hand. At the stoplight, Commie turned her head to ask Nazbol if she had given her aunts their chocolates.

“Of course mama.” 

Nazbol felt her heart warm as her mama gave her a rare, small, but genuine smile. “ _Класс_ , _Насбыл_. They’ll love it.”

She could almost hear the " _as much as we love you_ ," but even if Commie didn’t say it, she wouldn’t need to. For Nazi kissed her forehead as she tucked her in the bed- a long-forgotten tradition. “Sleep well, my Liebling.”

“ _Gut nacht Mutti_.” 

That night, Nazbol went on another Wacky Adventure- this time, where she was the main character, and the Wackys were her sidekicks. She vowed to join the Wackys when she became of age. Because she was a good girl.

The best, even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I cried a little in my own fanfic haha
> 
> This was a quick but fun short multi-chapter fic to write! That said, should I make more fanfics in this format?
> 
> Anyways. Thank you to all who tuned in to the story, means the world to me!! (Especially your feedback!! <3)


End file.
